


Inside Out on the Open

by fereldenpeach



Series: Evelia Trevelyan [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fereldenpeach/pseuds/fereldenpeach
Summary: Non-sexual acts of intimacy prompt: ♟: Patching up a wound fromfollows-swallows
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Character(s), Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Evelia Trevelyan [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/822666
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Inside Out on the Open

“Hold still.”

“I can’t! It fucking hurts!”

Cullen gingerly hooked his fingers through the line of torn fabric enough to continue the tear, carefully ripping it from Evelia’s body with the intention of preventing any further discomfort to his sore, exhausted, and maimed paramour.

The physical visit to the Fade had not been kind to the Inquisitor and her party—their bodies wracked, resources depleted, and minds bewildered with conflicting and unnerving visions meant to torment and torture what semblance of hope of which they all had desperately clung—an effort that was meant to keep them there—in defeat—for the rest of their days. 

The battle for Adamant had been nothing in comparison to the Fade, and Evelia had the wounds to prove it. Long ribbons of raw, red, and jagged flesh had burst across her right shoulder blade—her souvenirs on behalf of Fearlings converging on her from all angles. Dorian had covered her too late—a self-blame that had left him in tears at the edge of camp despite her insistence that she was fine, that she was alive, and all would be _mostly_ right in the morning. Her stomach knotted at the thought of leaving Loghain behind—a decision that she knew would haunt her dreams for as long as she was living—but the burn and throb deep within the lacerations in her back would suffice as punishment for the time being.

Cullen said nothing while he inspected her wounds, his hands shaking as they continued to work her arms from her clothing, rending her partially naked there in his tent. He stole a glance back to the tent’s entrance, ensuring the flaps were secure and that no one would be able to glimpse her in such a state.

“ _Why_ didn’t you bring Solas with you?” Cullen’s voice was calm despite the fear and irritation wrapped around his nerves. He opened a glass container, pulling its cork with a satisfying pop—the smell of elfroot swirled throughout the tent. 

“Dorian. I thought he and I could handle it. Solas has been—ahhh! Maker, Cullen, that’s fucking cold! It burns!”

Evelia squirmed, her fingernails digging into the meat of Cullen’s thighs and he paused his attentions on her injuries to band his free arm around her waist, pulling her closer so that her hips nestled between his open legs. Shushing noises slipped between his teeth, his fingers massaging into her biceps to distract and coax down her pain and anxiety.

“It was foolish.” Her voice was low, despondent, regretful. “I should have insisted that he come with us. I know things would have turned out differently had Solas been there.”

Cullen said nothing and instead rubbed a large dollop of salve between his palms, warming it in preparation of a second application. Deft fingers lightly patted the treatment into her wounds, taking care to prevent discomfort from the rough calluses of his fingers—and he nursed her despite her curses, watching as the skin around her torn flesh paled to its natural color—the magic of the herbs calming the angry inflammation branching within her veins.

Once he had finished, Evelia flashed her strongest healing spell throughout her body, using the power from the elfroot to hasten her recovery. Cullen tensed momentarily, but relief flooded his heart upon glimpsing her mostly smoothed back—only the largest of her wounds staring up at him from the mess of salve glistening in the glow of the lamplight.

“None of us expected you to physically enter the Fade, let alone your entire party,” he whispered, setting aside the salve in favor of a needle and suturing thread.

“I know. But it’s no excuse.”

Cullen hummed in contemplation. “Take a deep breath, darling. This will sting.”

Evelia did as she was told, filling her lungs to capacity as the needle pierced and threaded her flesh. Cullen worked as quickly and precisely as possible, and Evelia said a quiet thanks to the Maker during her long and careful exhale—grateful for her paramour’s expertise and skill, thankful for the elfroot’s numbing properties—and with that, the stitching had ended almost as quickly as it had begun. Cullen sliced off the remaining thread and proceeded to securely bind her injury. He wrapped the long, thin strip of linen around her chest, under her arms, over her shoulder, and tied it neatly so it would cause her as little discomfort as possible.

Cullen stood and looked down at her, assessing his work before reaching into his pack to withdraw a cream-colored tunic. Gathering the fabric around the collar of his shirt, he slipped it over her head before proceeding to gently pull her hands through the sleeves and smooth his fingers over her shoulders so her scarlet hair could cascade down her back. He took a seat next to her and reclined against his bedroll, extending his hand for her to join him by his side.

“Come, love.”

A small, sheepish smile spread Evelia’s mouth and she carefully stretched over him, snuggling against his shoulder and inhaling his warm and delectable musk. She nibbled at her bottom lip and he turned more to his side, looking over at her with a curious expression.

“What?” he asked.

“You’ve never called me that before— _love_.”

Without a second of hesitation, Cullen’s cheeks burned a warm pink that quickly flooded down his neck. But despite his blatant embarrassment, the look he bore in his eyes was unabashed—an intentional stare that relayed more than a simple glance as they flicked back and forth between the gray-green pools he’d come to search for from his earliest waking moment of the day until the Fade overtook his dreams at night.

“How do you feel?” he asked, cupping her cheek and gliding the pad of his thumb along her soft skin.

“Like I want to hear it more often,” she said.

His heart skipped a beat and Cullen was overwhelmed with immense excitement coupled with a nerve-wracking fear. But he drew in a deep breath, leaned forward, and kissed her—a delicate and familiar touch that suddenly felt different simply because his heart had slipped on his tongue. And it only made him long for more.

“I meant your injuries,” Cullen whispered, his lips grazing her jaw.

“I know,” she whispered back.

**Author's Note:**

> Old content from Tumblr consolidated into AO3.
> 
> Title inspired by [ Dorian by Agnes Obel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZN1HKn3Qus)


End file.
